Title: Clear Insanity
Author: Darien's Muse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: PWP, QSM. 'Nuff said.
Disclaimer: The usual. Don't own.
Author's Note: Writing a story in the middle of the night, this is what happens. *g*
---
"I'm not crazy."
They don't understand. I'm not insane! My eyes are red, I know that. But I'm not insane, I don't feel insane! Can you feel insanity, though? I don't know, and I don't care. All I know is I feel perfectly sane. But they don't understand. They're not listening to me. They never listen!
Hobbes, that bald little midget of a man, is trying to get me out of the van and into the Agency building. He talks to me like I'm some kind of moron.
"Fawkes, calm down now."
I am calm.
"Just come over here, nice and calm, there's nothing to get upset about."
I glare at him. What does he know? He's not the one whose life has been destroyed. Destroyed, taken apart, ripped to tiny little pieces covered in blood! Pieces of a broken life are all I have left. Anger, and revenge.
"Come on now, Fawkes, Claire has the Counteragent ready for ya."
Dangle a carrot in front of a horse and he'll follow. Sure. I don't think so.
I lunge at Hobbes, grabbing him by the throat, giving my anger free reign. He's a strong little tiger, he kicks me and manages to free himself and he runs into the building. I get out the back of the van and run after him. Bashing through the doors. And more doors. I hate doors. I want to get to Hobbes as fast as I can. He ran away from me. That is unacceptable. He has to pay. Nobody runs away from Darien Fawkes! Nobody!
"Claire! Fawkes has gone nuts, we're coming your way!"
Again with the insanity thing. I am not crazy! I may even be saner than ever. I see things so clearly now. I understand things that I didn't even want to look at before. Like the fact that nobody really cares about me. Oh, sure, Hobbesy and I have fun sometimes, but it's no more than simple, safe little jokes. Whenever I want to have some real fun, he bails on me. Just like a good obedient little government agent. I hate him. He doesn't care about me. Not really. It's all make-believe.
We're at the Keep! Ahh, the Keep. And the lovely Counteragent. I can smell it already. I don't understand why I want it so much. I hate it more than anything. It's the very symbol of my prison, my very own personal hell. And yet... I can't resist. I want it. And I hate that I want it.
Oh lookie here, there's Claire and her syringe. Her big needle. Can't understand why it's gotta be so big. I hate that thing. Poking me all the time. Doesn't she understand how much it hurts? But the Counteragent is right there, inside the syringe. I freeze. No! Not the Counteragent, anything but the Counteragent! I want it! Give me, give me!
"Give me!"
My eyes glued to the blueness inside the syringe, I slowly advance towards Claire. But she pulls it away. And that's the wrong thing to do. You don't take the Counteragent away from Darien Fawkes! My hands are around her throat in an instant. And I push with my thumbs, fully intending to crush.
Of course it's Hobbesy to the rescue. He jumps on my back, pulling me back and breaking my hold on my dear little Keepy. His arms around my throat choke me. Figures. He saves Claire, but couldn't care less about what happens to me. So I allow myself to fall backwards, landing on top of him. Quickly I turn around and put my hands around his neck once more. How dare he interfere!
He tries to get away, of course. But of course I won't let him. I put both my knees on him, my full weight. That'll help. Then I feel it in my neck.
Counteragent! No, I hate it! More please! Give me! I hate it, I want it!
...
I'm exhausted.
Slowly I open my eyes. I'm lying half on top of Hobbes. What am I doing lying half on top of Hobbes? Oh, that's right. I was trying to kill him.
I was crazy.
Or was I?
Author: Darien's Muse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: PWP, QSM. 'Nuff said.
Disclaimer: The usual. Don't own.
Author's Note: Writing a story in the middle of the night, this is what happens. *g*
---
"I'm not crazy."
They don't understand. I'm not insane! My eyes are red, I know that. But I'm not insane, I don't feel insane! Can you feel insanity, though? I don't know, and I don't care. All I know is I feel perfectly sane. But they don't understand. They're not listening to me. They never listen!
Hobbes, that bald little midget of a man, is trying to get me out of the van and into the Agency building. He talks to me like I'm some kind of moron.
"Fawkes, calm down now."
I am calm.
"Just come over here, nice and calm, there's nothing to get upset about."
I glare at him. What does he know? He's not the one whose life has been destroyed. Destroyed, taken apart, ripped to tiny little pieces covered in blood! Pieces of a broken life are all I have left. Anger, and revenge.
"Come on now, Fawkes, Claire has the Counteragent ready for ya."
Dangle a carrot in front of a horse and he'll follow. Sure. I don't think so.
I lunge at Hobbes, grabbing him by the throat, giving my anger free reign. He's a strong little tiger, he kicks me and manages to free himself and he runs into the building. I get out the back of the van and run after him. Bashing through the doors. And more doors. I hate doors. I want to get to Hobbes as fast as I can. He ran away from me. That is unacceptable. He has to pay. Nobody runs away from Darien Fawkes! Nobody!
"Claire! Fawkes has gone nuts, we're coming your way!"
Again with the insanity thing. I am not crazy! I may even be saner than ever. I see things so clearly now. I understand things that I didn't even want to look at before. Like the fact that nobody really cares about me. Oh, sure, Hobbesy and I have fun sometimes, but it's no more than simple, safe little jokes. Whenever I want to have some real fun, he bails on me. Just like a good obedient little government agent. I hate him. He doesn't care about me. Not really. It's all make-believe.
We're at the Keep! Ahh, the Keep. And the lovely Counteragent. I can smell it already. I don't understand why I want it so much. I hate it more than anything. It's the very symbol of my prison, my very own personal hell. And yet... I can't resist. I want it. And I hate that I want it.
Oh lookie here, there's Claire and her syringe. Her big needle. Can't understand why it's gotta be so big. I hate that thing. Poking me all the time. Doesn't she understand how much it hurts? But the Counteragent is right there, inside the syringe. I freeze. No! Not the Counteragent, anything but the Counteragent! I want it! Give me, give me!
"Give me!"
My eyes glued to the blueness inside the syringe, I slowly advance towards Claire. But she pulls it away. And that's the wrong thing to do. You don't take the Counteragent away from Darien Fawkes! My hands are around her throat in an instant. And I push with my thumbs, fully intending to crush.
Of course it's Hobbesy to the rescue. He jumps on my back, pulling me back and breaking my hold on my dear little Keepy. His arms around my throat choke me. Figures. He saves Claire, but couldn't care less about what happens to me. So I allow myself to fall backwards, landing on top of him. Quickly I turn around and put my hands around his neck once more. How dare he interfere!
He tries to get away, of course. But of course I won't let him. I put both my knees on him, my full weight. That'll help. Then I feel it in my neck.
Counteragent! No, I hate it! More please! Give me! I hate it, I want it!
...
I'm exhausted.
Slowly I open my eyes. I'm lying half on top of Hobbes. What am I doing lying half on top of Hobbes? Oh, that's right. I was trying to kill him.
I was crazy.
Or was I?